A Christmas in Rivendell
by Morwen and Cathelle
Summary: Aragorn is having a Christmas party in Rivendell. He has invited people from all over Middle Earth. But he forgets that Elrond might not appreciate him planning this, especially without him knowing!
1. Aragorn's idea

Disclaimer: I don't own LOTR, or any of the characters

A/N: This is a Christmas fic! Yay! There are some changes that I made to the plotline of LOTR. You will notice that Gandalf, Frodo, and Elrond did not go to the Undying Lands. This is mostly to provide comic relief. Please R &R!

Chapter 1

The first invitation

Aragorn woke up one morning to find that the world outside his window was covered in a layer of snow. "What _day _is it? Is it winter already?" he exclaimed. It seemed like just yesterday that the sun was shining down on the summer flowers.

Arwen walked into his room, smiling at her husband teasingly. "It's December the first today."

"_How is it December the first_?" Aragorn screamed, tearing off his covers and getting out of bed. "Yesterday was still September!"

Arwen frowned. "Have you been drinking?"

Aragorn shook his head and calmed down. "It must be the overwork. I HATE being King! Arrrrgggggghhhhhhh! Who _cares_ about the stupid Easterlings? Why don't they just go and rot? I hate my job!" He ran around the room and punched the wall. "OWWW!" he cried. One wonders how he can headbutt a helmeted Uruk Hai and still hurt himself punching a wall.

Arwen watched her beloved as he tore around the room, eventually coming to rest on all fours, panting. "Dear, I think you need a vacation. . ."

"Yes!" said Aragorn. "Let's go to an exotic resort and stay there and never come back to Gondor!"

A servant passing by the room glanced through the open doorway, and walked away from the room _really _fast.

"I have a better idea honey!" Arwen exclaimed happily. "Christmas is coming up. In a few weeks we'll go to Rivendell and celebrate with Ada!"

An idea began to form in Aragorn's mind. "Yes! In fact, why don't we plan a Christmas party there? We'll invite people from all over Middle-Earth!"

Arwen hesitated. "I don't think daddy would like that. . ."

"Oh, don't worry about him," Aragorn said confidently. "I'll make sure that he will be a most welcoming host."

Arwen, though a little freaked outabout what her father's reaction would be, began to help her husband in planning the party.

**

* * *

The Shire **

Rose Gamgee ran to her father. "You've got mail, you've got mail!" she proclaimed, much like the annoying AOL commercial that played about 5 years ago.Samwise Gamgee looked up from his gardening and took a letter from his daughter's hands. "Thank you Rose," he said absently, trying to force a stubborn sunflower plant into a pot. The pot was too small the accommodate the roots of the flower. He continued to jam the plant into the tiny pot with all his strength. "I'll read it as soon as I-whoops," he looked down at the plant, which had fallen apart in his hands. The pot was also warped beyond repair. He muttered some very colourful language before he remembered that his 9-year old daughter was listening intently, hanging on to every word. "Uh. . . go inside the house, honey. Daddy will come in as soon as he cleans up this mess," he gestured to the remains of the sunflower, splattered all over the soil.

Once his daughter had left, Sam looked at the letter. The envelope had Gondor's coat of arms with the King's stamp on the seal. He slit open the envelope and took out the card. The front of it had 3 snowmen, all dressed in holiday attire, their mouths wide open in some traumatic pose. When he opened the card three loud but gravely voices blasted out in some attempted form of music. The sound sliced through the cold December air, bringing instant agony upon any who chanced to hear it. Sam closed the card quickly. The wailing ceased.

Rosie Cotton, Sam's wife, came running out of the house. "What was that!" she asked incredulously.

Sam scratched his head, puzzled. "We got a Christmas card from Aragorn, I think."

"He must have finally gone over the edge to send us something as horrible as that!"

Sam began to open that card again.

"Samwise, don't!" Rosie cried.

"I have to see what he wrote to us!" Sam protested.

Rosie ran into the house and slammed the door behind her. Very gingerly, Sam opened the card. The groaning sound started again, but this time Sam paid it no heed and instead read the text scrawled on the inside.

"'_Happy Holidays,' _he read, "Very happy, especially with all this noise. _'King Elessar of Gondor and his wife Arwen invite you and your family to celebrate Christmas with them in Rivendell. A party will take place in the Last Homely House on the 24th of December. You are welcome to stay in Rivendell for the entire Christmas week, provided you make an appropriate excuse to the founder, Lord Elrond.' _"

Sam shut the card before the noise could cause any permanent brain damage.

All the passer-bys heaved sighs of relief. Rosie emerged slowly from their hobbit-hole. Once she found that the terrible noise had ceased, she stomped up to her husband. "I'm getting the fire started, and we are disposing of that horrid card! I don't know what that Aragorn was thinking-"

"He invited us to Rivendell," Sam interrupted. "We're gonna spend Christmas there and see all the elves!"

"That's wonderful, Sam," Rosie replied dryly, "but what about the children?"

"They'll come with us, naturally."

Rosie eyed him sceptically. "You really want to haul all eight of our children to Rivendell? Have you any idea how torturous the journey will be?"

"Oh, don't worry," Sam said confidently, "They'll have a great time, and so will we."

A/N: What do you think? This first chapter was kind of dry, but it will get better as the story goes along. Please review!


	2. Two more invitations

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I definitely do not own Lord of the Rings. If I did, I'd be rich and would be able to afford buying everyone Christmas presents.

A/N: I got reviews! Thank you! hugs reviewers Yay!

**Mirkwood**

Legolas and his father, Thranduil, were arguing again. Their fight had begun hours earlier, when Thranduil had decided to examine his son's face for the hundredth time that day. "Aaurghgh! A zit!" he cried.

Legolas was panicked. Not because of the tiny bump on his face (which was barely visible), but more at his father's reaction.

"It's okay, daddy. I'll fix it up."

"Legolas! I can't believe it! My only son has a zit! Oh, the shame! Oh, the shame!"

"Legolas rolled his eyes. "Calm down, daddy. I don't really care."

Then Thranduil went over the edge. "Don't care? DON'T CARE! By the valar, you are going to be KING one day! How will people be able to look upon your zit-covered face!"

By evening, their discussion had turned into a full-fledged debate about personal hygiene.

"Aragorn's King and _he_ doesn't have to wash his face 20 times a day!" Legolas yelled, his patience having dissolved a few hours ago.

"Aragorn is a _mortal_! Mortals are ignorant and unhygienic!" Thranduil shot back.

"Oh, so you're saying Aragorn's stupid?" Legolas challenged.

"And if I am?"

"I'll have none of that!" the Prince of Mirkwood shouted, in a very un-princely manner.

A shouting match began, each elf trying to drown the other out.

A little while later, while both were trying to catch their breath, a timid knock sounded at the door.

"Come-in," Thranduil said through gritted teeth.

A servant opened the door and stepped into the room cautiously. "Good evening, milords."

He received 2 identical glares in reply.

"Wow, your Majesty, your Highness, I've only just noticed how closely he resemble each other," the servant commented, trying to win favour among them.

Unfortunately, he had said the wrong thing. Legolas began to go ballistic, screaming cuss words at the servant and attempting to attack him. Thranduil was thoroughly insulted, but his self-control was better than Legolas' so he merely said, _very_ stiffly, "If you came in here only to converse with us, you are quite welcome to _leave._"

The servant took the hint. Just before the door was slammed in his face he threw a letter at Legolas and said, "This is for you from Aragorn, King of Gondor-"

SLAM. "And stay out!"

From outside the room, the servant rolled his eyes, muttering to himself about overly violent monarchs.

**

* * *

The Shire**

In Bag End, Frodo sat at his desk, playing chess with Gandalf. The wizard was very fond of this game, but Frodo thought it was a waste of time. So, to liven things up, he had decided to make chess a way to win pipe-weed off of Gandalf.

"…Checkmate!" the hobbit crowed triumphantly.

Grumbling, Gandalf handed him his sachet of Longbottom Leaf. Then he watched as Frodo performed a very disturbing victory dance, involving much twirling, hip movement and mooning.

Soon an audience had gathered at his window. Among these people was the mailman. Old Gorbulas Hornblower almost had a heart attack as he watched the hobbit prance around, scantily clothed. "Impulsive young people," he muttered. "This new generation, I don't think I'll ever get used to it."

From inside the hobbit hole Gandalf wondered about the mental health of the hobbit. "This must be the influence of pipe-weed on him," he muttered. "What a disgusting addiction."

Mailman Gorbulas chose that moment to kick open the door of Bag End and barge inside. He was a rather crabby hobbit, and he was getting impatient waiting for Frodo to finish his dance. After all he still had to deliver mail to the rest of Hobbiton.

"Frodo Baggins!" he belted out.

The hobbit staggered up to him, dizzy from all the spinning and twirling. The mailman thrust the Aragorn's invitation into his hands and stomped out the door.

Frodo stared at the front of the card. There were two colourful birds perched on tree branches. In his impaired state, the hobbit saw them flying away. He dropped the card and started running around his house, chasing the hallucinated birds.

Rolling his eyes, Gandalf picked up the card and read the message on the inside. He groaned. "In Rivendell? At _Elrond's_ house? What was he thinking? His father is going to _fry_ him!"


	3. an unwelcome invitation

Chapter 3: An unwelcome invitation in Ithilien

Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings, but I do own the ugly pigeon, not that that does any credit to me.

A/N: It's been loooong since I last updated, or wrote any fanfiction at all. Sorry this chapter is so short. I'm running out of ideas. Any suggestions?

In Ithilien, high above the rooftops, an ugly pigeon soared ungracefully. Although many other birds dotted the cloudy sky, this particular pigeon stood out, maybe because of the hot pink scroll tied to his leg.

"Caw! Caw! Hraglesmrff!" he made some unpigeon-like sounds, clearly objecting to the said attachment. Spotting his destination, the pigeon started a slow descent. Slow and smooth was his goal, a good end to a long and tiresome trip from Minas Tirith.

He collided with the stone wall of the castle.

Muttering pigeon-curses, he entered through an open window, only to collide with something hard in the room.

Faramir and Eowyn held each other tight, passionately intertwining their bodies in a pretzel-like embrace. In the back of Faramir's mind he knew he should be attending some conference or another, but who cared? He could use a day off. Besides, he was safe in his bedroom with his blond-haired beauty, the door locked and the curtains drawn shut. Only the window was open, but who could enter, the bedroom being on the 7th floor…

SPLAT!

Faramir and his wife sat up in the bed, alarmed. Faramir frowned when he saw the cause of the disturbance. A small grotesque figure had crashed into the side of the tall bookshelf. It was hard to tell what it was, but he suspected it was a pigeon…carrying a hot pink scroll. Gingerly, he lifted the bird up by the claws and untied the message. Finally free of his burden, the bird started flailing about wildly, freeing himself of Faramir's grasp. He flew out the window, shrieking, but not before leaving an obscene amount of bird "souvenirs" on Faramir's head. The prince of Ithilien shook his first at the bird, cursing loudly. Eowyn giggled, walking over to see what the hot pink message was while Faramir tried to clean off his head.

She opened up the scroll and saw a really fat Santa Claus. He must have just consumed a large amount of food, as the text on the card came in the form of a burp. "Disgusting," Eowyn muttered as she read the text.

"Farry-dear," she called. "Aragorn invited us to a Christmas party."

"That's nice," Faramir replied absentmindedly, still trying to clean the disgusting mess out of his hair.

"It's in Rivendell, on Christmas Eve. I guess we should start shopping for gifts, seeing as it is already the first week of December."

"I know what we can get Aragorn," Faramir said darkly. "A bucketful of pigeon poop." He had failed to clean off the mess, only spread it all over his hair. "This is so gross. I don't care if Aragorn's king. When I get my hands on that man…"

A/N: Please review! Let me know how this story is!


	4. Gimli and Gandalf

Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings. Which may be a good thing…

A/N: Yeah, I've updated again…even though it's nowhere near Christmas time. But please, read and review!

Gimli sat in his room, axe in his hands. He was in Mirkwood, visiting Legolas. Although dwarves were rarely welcome among so many elves, Legolas had seen to it that his friend be made as comfortable as possible. So Gimli's room consisted of rocks embedded into the walls, a stone floor and dripping ceilings. Every elf who passed this room gave it a wide berth, shaking their heads in quiet disapproval. Unfortunately, being in an environment with so many elves had made Gimli a bit paranoid. Which explains why he was holding his axe with hands that shook.

When a servant unexpectedly knocked on the door, Gimli jumped a few feet before securing his grip on his axe and tiptoeing to the door. He opened it a crack.

"Yes?" he said, peering through the small space.

The servant was no more comfortable than Gimli. "Master dwarf," he said with slight distaste. "This packaged arrived for you. It is from Lord Aragorn."

"Really?" Gimli eyed the brown packaged cautiously, then quickly opened the door, snatched it out of the elf's hands, and slammed the door shut. He had it bolted before he knew what he was doing. As I said, paranoid.

The servant frowned, wondering what was wrong with the dwarf. But then, all dwarves were strange and vulgar, and he made a point of avoiding this room as much as possible.

Inside Gimli's cave, the dwarf opened Aragorn's package. It contained a cake. It was a two-storey cake (you know, with two levels), adorned with mounds of icing and marzipan and whatever else you can imagine. On the very top a white songbird was perched.

"Oh!" Gimli sighed in delight. "Aragorn really knows how to cater to a dwarf…"

But then the cake started dancing. Alarmed, Gimli grabbed his axe. Music came from somewhere inside the cake and the little songbird burst into…song.

"_Gimli, the elf-loving dwarf,_

_his majesty King Aragorn_

_invites you to a Christmas party _

_in Rivendell._

_Your dislike for such_

_Social gatherings is known,_

_But Lord Aragorn promises_

_That this cake is only a small_

_Sample of what will be on the _

_Christmas table."_

"Bribery!" Gimli muttered, his mouth full. "Before the songbird had finished his song the cake was already half-gone. Dancing or not, said cake was delicious, and Gimli realized the only way he could get more of it was to go to this Christmas party.

"Very well, Aragorn," he grinned. "I'll come to this party of yours, but don't expect me to mingle excessively… I'll be busy _guarding_ the dinner table!"

* * *

**Hobbiton**

Gandalf sighed as he rode to his temporary hobbit home in his horse carriage. The blasted hobbit had beat him _again_ in their daily chess game. Even with his super-mental-prediction powers he hadn't been able to win the game.

"I'm getting old," the wizard sighed again.

A big butterfly suddenly flew in front of Gandalf.

"Senile!" it shrieked. "Decrepit!"

Gandalf's face contorted with rage. "You _will_ pay for that!" he muttered a spell and watched in satisfaction as the butterfly swelled and exploded.

The authoress screamed and berated Gandalf about animal rights and brought the butterfly back, as a ghost that would haunt the wizard forever.

As Gandalf approached his hobbit-home he heard loud bangs coming from within. He hurried back and yanked open the door, only to be thrown back onto the porch by a flying chair. A closer inspection of the situation revealed that mini-explosions were being caused by something on his kitchen table. Shielding his face from the objects being blown at him, Gandalf walked over to the table and grabbed whatever it was that was causing the explosions.

It was a card. The wizard groaned. Aragorn's doing, no doubt. He hurled the card outside before it could explode again. Then he went out into the garden, cast a spell, and utterly destroyed the object.

But to his dismay, the object did not disintegrate. It shot spouts of fire into the air, forming words.

"Lord Aragorn invites you to a Christmas party in Rivendell…"

At the end of the message, the card combusted and Gandalf was faced with the wreckage of his home.

"You will pay, Aragorn," he grimaced. "Mark my words, _you will pay._"

A/N: Not my best, but I'm really running out of ideas. I think I'm just going to skip over the rest of the invitees and get on with the story, unless I'm faced with some brilliant ideas or urgent requests to continue with the reactions. Please review!


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